Treacherous
by hellyeahglee
Summary: Santana thinks she's okay. Wrong. She's falling apart bit by bit and there's not one person around to stop it. Santana knows shes needs help, but she isnt so sure she wants it. Brittany has always been the girl to just take, never give. But when Brittany starts to fall into Santana's slowly disintegrating world, she finds that maybe she's needs a little more than what she wants.


When I stepped into the marble floored lobby of my arpartment complex, I noticed that it was empty. Not a single person expect the concierge. I sighed, letting my bag drop to my elbow. It was past midnight when I had looked at my watch and finally decided to leave Sniper's, so of course there weren't many people here, as it took an hour to get home.  
Sniper's was a bar not to far from where I lived and was a place I was recently often finding myself. Now Im sure you're thinking: If its so close, how could you have possibly taken an hour to get home? And you see I would have been home sooner, if I hadn't run into a man on the subway.  
His name was...well, honestly I can't remember his name. I knew him really for about 10 minutes before we came to his stop and I followed him to the platform bathroom. It was no big deal. I'd had a rough day at the studio and needed a little pick me up, it just happened to start at the bar and end in the subway station. No big deal.  
So as I walked across the lobby floor, I suddenly felt extremely tired. So much so that even the ratty old chairs off to my left looked comfortable at that moment in time. But I decided against it and pressed the button to call the elevator, where it took me to the 8th floor.  
Riverside Apartments was a rather shabby complex. It was right next to the river that ran through Chicago, and that might have been its only plus. I was on the 8th floor, apartment 803. Every time I walked into my apartment, I was reminded that I didn't make enough money, nor was I very successful in life, because surely if I was I could afford a better living style. Okay, so I do own my own dance company and it is pretty strong. I guess I am successful. But...am I happy? I like to think so...sometimes. I mean, I don't need anything more than what I have. And what I have is what I want. Just a place alone, free to my own desire.  
There was a white piece of paper on the table. As I picked it up, I noticed it must be from Bryan, a guy that constantly stopped by to check on me. He was a friend of my moms, a person who never stopped worrying about me.  
'Brittany,' the note said, 'I came by to talk for awhile but clearly you weren't home. Your mom says she will call you at 6 tomorrow morning.' He signed his name nice and legibly at the bottom.  
I groaned. 6 am? My mother would surely be lucky if I was even awake at that ungodly hour. I definitely didn't plan on being so now. Balling up the paper and tossing it into the trash, I headed for the bathroom. I put my hair up in a messy bun, brushed my teeth, took a shower and eventually changed into pajamas. I pulled the sheets tight around my shoulders after I had crawled into bed. I sat there, and I though of my mom. The dread I felt towards the call that was coming in- I looked at the clock- 4 hours. My mind reeled with the possible things we'd talk about.  
It happened every night. That small tickle of loneliness in the back of my throat. The one that told me that I was better, better than this Brittany that appeared when I graduated high school. This Brittany, she had a million one night stands in months, and she went to bars to get drunk off we ass more than 3 times a week. She was mean and unnecessarily criticizing towards her employees and dance students. This Brittany didn't even go to college.  
But what Brittany was I supposed to be? The 24 year old that graduated from Juliard with a dance major. The one that had a fiancé and a steady hub with good income? The one that was always out with friends and had so many people's respect.  
My mom would think I need to be her, needed those things.  
I knew I could be that Brittany, if I had wanted to. But that was the problem, I didn't want to be that Brittany. Who I was right then was exactly who I wanted to be. Without a care in the world.  
I turned, drumming on the back case of my phone before I set it in my beside table. I waited a few more moments am then turned out the light. Then I sank down in bed, looking towards the window that framed the beautiful city of Chicago. My home. Another few minutes and I was smiling, letting the darkness and noise of late night rush on the Chicago streets engulf me until I fell asleep.


End file.
